Death Comes Silently: February 2007 Archives

Last week when I was hit with a viral illness of the worst kind. It was the first time in over 10 years I had had a stomach virus. I was so sick, in fact, I can only remember feeling as ill once in my pre-teen years and I stayed home from school for almost a week. (That was back when General Hospital was THE show to see.) Monday and Tuesday I tried to sleep through the worst of it only to be awakened every few hours by, "Momma, Momma ..." someone calling my name for something. I was barely able to crawl out to the bathroom much less answer calls for "Momma". Wednesday, long before I was ready, I was expected to resume my duties of cheif cook, housekeeper, laundress, social secretary, financier, butler and maid. Then the baby got sick. My house was a total wreck from the two days I was completely out of commission and three more days of sitting and holding and napping and rocking a sick baby furthered the wreckage. Thursday Grace came home from school sick. Laundry begin to pile up in mass amounts. Friday Steve stumbled back from work at 10am clinging to his last shred of life. Saturday brought Colby to her knees. Except for the baby these people all expected to sleep uninterupted. Theymexpected tylenol, cool or warm drinks and to be left alone in their misery. All of which they did not afford me the prvilige of doing. I resent this behavior. I laid it out last night how angry I was that after a decade of not being sick the one time I was too sick to care for myself no one left me to heal and suffer quietly. I resent their own illness and the fact someone had to care for each of them in turn and it had to be me. No one waited on me and brought me drinks and tylenol. No. One. I am angry with them all because no one has ever been as sick as each of them were and there was little compassion for my own illness. It may take me a very long time to get over being angry. I had a few posts I had written in the past that I was able to post last week. This week I have nothing in my arsenal. It will take me awhile to catch up on laundry, clean my kitchen and mop my floors. Not to mention all of the laundry from last week and the mountain of bedding that has to be washed and dried. If I manage to answer my backlog of email, to post or to work on the templates I have promised it is because I have gone on strike and taken leave of my senses for a day or two.